Incubate
by Loudmouth Lamb
Summary: Sequel to Procreate.
1. Implantation Bleeding

**"I keep on going with this sad and hungry and sordid, this limping and mutilated story…"**

Dust gathered between the piano keys. After the annual Procreation, a week ago, Madge hadn't felt much like playing. She sat on the bench, hands twisted behind her back, gazing out the window, towards the seam. Gale Hawthorne was on her mind again. She couldn't keep him out, though she tried. What was he doing? Thinking about her?

They hadn't spoken since _that_ night, the last night, and the three times she'd seen him at school, he quickly changed direction to keep their paths from crossing. Now that he was avoiding her, she realized it wasn't an accident how they used to crash into each other daily. Only now, she realized he'd been seeking her out all these years. Why? Just to argue, to torment, to vent? Soon Gale would be done with school, go the mines, and Madge didn't expect to see him again after that. It was a day she'd long dreamed of. But now...now…

Old dreams and fresh nightmares boiled in her brain. She pressed her palms against her stomach. A folded square of lined, yellow notebook paper crinkled under her blouse. A letter she should have burned, but instead kept in the waistband of her skirt, or at night, inside her pillow case. She'd read it so many times, every word scratched into the insides of her closed eyelids, but she still couldn't bring herself to burn the letter, needing physical proof of its existence.

Lately, reality and dreams overlapped. The letter didn't always help. Sometimes it made things worse and she stayed awake whole nights searching for answers to half-formed questions. _Funny that there's an us. Funny you can know someone most of your life and not know them at all._ Madge had thought she knew Gale Hawthorne. Hot-headed, cruel, self righteous. But then, locked together inside of a white-walled room, with nothing to look at besides each other, she saw patience, kindness, humility. It had been like looking into a mirror, everything reflected in opposites, and she didn't know which image was flesh, which was glass. Now she never would.

Madge abandoned the piano, left the cover open, not caring if dust clogged and choked the ivory keys. She retreated to her bedroom, to re-read the letter, or maybe burn it, like she'd promised she already had, but it was too hot to light a fire.

* * *

Gale couldn't remember the girl's name. He wasn't sure he'd even asked. Evie? No. Robin, maybe? He knew what her name wasn't. _Madge._ The girl, whoever she was, clearly knew his name. She screamed it. Gale clamped his free hand over her mouth, even though the slag heap was miles away from civilization. It was past curfew. He didn't want to risk being overheard by some zealous Peacekeeper, the rare sort who took patrol duty seriously.

Not-Madge was close. About damn time. Either she was just a tough nut to crack, or he was losing his touch, or a combination of the two. He was just glad it was almost over. For him, it had ended in lackluster release about fifteen minutes ago; but if he couldn't remember the girl's name, the least he could do was not leave her hanging.

Not-Madge finally burst. He withdrew his hand and wiped it clean on his socks, the only part of him not completely covered in coal. Not-Madge was already on her feet. "Thanks," she said, straightening out her skirt.

"You're welcome," said Gale, without ego, without pride. No smug grin. No job well done. No satisfaction. He felt like he was at the Hobb, trading squirrel for eggs. Sex and bartering had become the same to him, a means of surviving, scraping by on scraps.

* * *

Madge woke in a sticky, cold sweat from a nightmare, the same one she had every night, of being split down the middle by a bolt of lightning. She didn't wake screaming, crying, clawing at her belly this time. Familiarity took the drama out of things, but not the taste of dread in her mouth. Her subconscious wasn't exactly subtle. Interpreting the dream was no trouble. _I don't want to be pregnant._ Mind and soul unanimously agreed. It was only her body she had to worry about.

And right now, her body needed to pee. She waited for her heart to stop racing, before crawling out from under the tangled sheets. The third floor hall was long and lightless. She felt her way along the wall through the dark, her shuffled footsteps muted by thick carpet. Her hands grazed over crystal doorknobs, leading into empty guestrooms. Mr. and Mrs. Undersee had their own separate rooms on the second floor. Madge used to relish in having a whole floor of the house to herself. Not anymore. There was something sad about the empty guestrooms now, something ominous, an endless stillness that reminded her of the hall in the Justice Building. She imagined people behind the doors, trapped.

Madge locked herself in the bathroom, even though it was the middle of the night, there were no guests to walk in on her, no one be afraid of. _I'm losing my mind_ , she thought, as she dropped her panties and perched on the edge of the toilet, the porcelain seat cool against the backs of her thighs, even on a warm night like this one. She pushed on her bladder to hurry things along.

Mid-stream, the flow stopped when she noticed a rust colored stain in the crotch of her cotton underwear. She blinked a few times, to make sure the stain wasn't a sleepy-eyed trick. Then she kicked off the panties and brought them to her face for closer inspection. Blood. Definitely blood.

Madge burst out laughing from relief. For the first time in her life, she was grateful for her period, proof that it was over. For this year, at least. As Gale said in the letter, she was smart and there was time to find a way out before next Spring. For now, she just stared at the rust stain like it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, a bloody winter sunrise over white snow.

* * *

Gale took off his boots on the front stoop, before entering the house. He tiptoed across the living room, careful to avoid the floorboards that creaked the loudest.

"Another late night," said Hazelle from behind. Gale froze. He sighed through his nose, still tender from its recent break, and turned slowly to face his mother, standing in the kitchen doorway.

"I couldn't sleep," he said. "Needed to take a walk."

"Nice try," said Hazelle. She looked him over from head to socked feet. His clothes, his hands, his face were all streaked with coal dust, giving him away. She knew where he'd been. The slag heap, again, for the ninth night in a row. "You're grown enough," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "Your business is your own. I trust you're being careful."

Gale looked to his feet. He hoped it was too dark for her to see the flush spreading across his cheeks. "I am," he muttered.

"Good," said Hazelle. "Because you know what will happen if you get one of those girls pregnant."

Yes, he knew. Even though Procreation was over for the year, any unmarried woman under twenty-one who became pregnant would meet the same fate as an official breeder. Panem was desperate for labor. "Don't worry," said Gale. "I know what I'm doing." He wasn't exactly new to this. Sure, he was visiting the slag heap more often than ever before, but he hadn't lost complete control of his wits, just partial control.

"Leave your clothes out here," said Hazelle. "I don't want you tracking coal all over the place." She retreated to the kitchen, to continue her work. It wasn't unusual for her to stay up all night, sewing, straining her tired eyes over neat stitches in weak candlelight.

Gale stripped off his dirty clothes, set them on the hearth, and headed for his room; but changed his mind halfway there. He wasn't tired. He was always tired. When he slept, he dreamt of Madge, so he tried not to sleep.

Gale joined his mother in the kitchen and pulled a pair of slacks from the basket of clothes on the floor. Without a word, Hazelle nudged a spool of black thread across the table, which he caught just before it rolled over the edge. He threaded his needle and set to work patching a hole in the knee of the pants. Sewing was a dull, tedious chore, one he used to hate, but now he found the repetitive motion soothing. The needle went in and out, in and out, of the gray cloth.

But no matter how many nameless girls he took the slag heap, no matter how many stitches he made, awake or asleep, the mayor's daughter snuck across the back of his mind. If only he could physically tear her from his thoughts. Nothing else seemed to be working. Not fucking, or sewing, not hunting with Katniss, or hunting alone, not trading at the Hobb, not spending time with his family. He tried so hard not to think about her that he found himself always thinking about her.

* * *

Madge waited alone for the results in the same sterile room where she'd had her initial check-up three weeks ago. She didn't know if it was the same Capitol medic. Most of them looked the same to her. They always kept their white-masks on, like they thought everyone in Twelve was diseased. _I wish we were,_ thought Madge, _then they'd stop coming here._ She lay on her back, on a stainless steel examination table, wasting time.

"I'm not pregnant," she'd told the medic right away. "I had my period a few days ago."

It didn't matter. She might as well have said nothing. _Maybe I should've brought the underwear as proof._ But they would've test her blood anyway. Procedure had to be followed. She didn't mind the needle in her vein, it was the waiting that killed her, this slow dragging out of the worst moment of her life. _I'm not pregnant,_ she reminded herself, repeating the words in a silent mantra. _I had my period. I'm not pregnant._

Madge shot up when the door opened and Effie Trinket marched into the room, wearing an irradiate smile that hit Madge like a nuclear blast. Where was the medic? Effie shouldn't be here. This was all wrong. But Effie _was_ here, smiling. There could only be one reason for it.

"Congratulations," said Effie. "You're-"

Madge leapt from the examination table, both feet hitting the floor with a solid, simultaneous thud. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I can't be."

Effie's smile flickered, but she managed to hold it in place. "Well, you are. We don't make mistakes."

"This time you did," said Madge, unable to stop herself. She was pushing her luck, breaking protocol, or as her mother would say, _causing a scene._ It took all of her effort to keep from screaming when she spoke. "I had my period, so there must be a mistake."

Effie Trinket made a nervous tittering sound. A giggle, maybe? Or a speck of coal dust at the back of her throat. "Oh dear," she said, glancing at the door. "Perhaps I should fetch the medic and let him explain."

 _Yes, do that_ , thought Madge, afraid to open her mouth again, in case she said something she'd really regret. Even though she knew she was right, that there'd been a mistake, she didn't want to become a problem. Everything that happened in this room went back to the president. Even the smallest moment of unwillingness, of insubordination, could be branded treasonous.

Effie didn't make it two steps, before the medic entered, as if he'd been listening the whole time on just the other side of the door. "Is there a problem?" he said, addressing Effie.

"Yes," said Madge, resisting the urge to wave her hands in the air, jump up and down, and yell, _look at me_. She managed to speak calmly, if strained. "I already told you, I can't be pregnant. You must have mixed up the tests, done them wrong, or something."

The medic finally looked at her. His eyes were flint gray, clinical, cutting. "The bleeding you experienced was not from menstruation," he said from behind his mask. "We call it implantation bleeding. It's not uncommon after the fertilization of an egg."

The room began to spin, faster, faster. Madge gripped the edge of the examination table for support _._ There had been a mistake, her mistake in believing that this nightmare would ever end.

* * *

 **AN:** And so the sequel begins...You probably saw the whole pregnancy thing coming. Buckle your seatbelts, dear readers, because this is gonna be a hell of a ride :)


	2. Independence Day

**"Here and there are worms, evidence of the fertility of the soul, caught by the sun, half dead; flexible and pink, like lips."**

In the Dark Days, Panem wavered on the cusp of self-destruction, after District 13 launched nuclear warfare. They didn't just overthrow the Old Capitol, they blew it off the map, nearly exterminated an entire race of people, all in the name of justice, of equality. Of course, in school, all children were taught that the Old Capitol was corrupt, oppressive, and cruel. The people who lived there had deserved their fate.

The day after Madge learned she was pregnant, marked the 75th anniversary of Panem's liberation from its tyrannical overlords. Under President Coin's command, all citizens were gathered in the Square. Madge searched the crowd for Gale, but couldn't find him among the rows of dark heads and stern faces. Everyone, even the children, stood at military attention, as the Mayor recited the Treaty of Independence. "From this day forth, the thirteen districts of Panem will rule themselves in equal coalition."

Except there was no _equal_ coalition. District 13 quickly became the New Capitol. Toxic waste was all that remained of the old one. Twelve was lucky. Far from the epicenter of the blast, they were spared the near total environmental collapse suffered by the Old Capitol's border districts. As it was written in the Treaty of Independence, though, "when one district falls, the country falls." Most of Panem had been starving before the Rebellion. Afterwards, without grain from the withered, radioactive fields of District 9, everyone starved. District 13, of course, had decades worth of food stores, and with food, came power. They had nukes at the tips of their fingers. There was power in that, too.

"The fruit of our combined labor," read Mayor Undersee, "will be divided fairly."

Madge shuddered in the heat. She pressed her hands to her stomach, touching Gale's letter, _our combined labor_. Seventy-five years ago, when District 13 initiated nuclear warfare, they must've known there would be consequences. They retreated to their underground bunkers, they had enough food and water to outlast the worst of what they'd unleashed, they knew what they were doing. But had they foreseen the infertility of more than just the land, but the people too, the grotesque birth defects, and gruelling miscarriages? Did they even care?

Madge had asked herself these questions before, though she wasn't supposed to question the New Capitol at all, out loud or in her head. She couldn't help it. "Great sacrifices were made," her father read, "for a new Panem to rise from the ashes of the Dark Days."

But seventy-five years later, their days were still dark. Madge didn't know if they were darker than before, as she hadn't been alive then, and little records existed of the time. District 13 said so; she didn't always trust what District 13 had to say, even less so these days. All her life, she'd been told it was her duty to breed, if she was able, for the sake of the nation. But why was her duty to suffer? _I didn't break the world. I didn't poison the crops, the water, the women._ District 13 was responsible for all that, but of course, the New Capitol was exempt from Procreation.

Madge finally found Gale in the crowd. He was staring at her. Their eyes locked and, suddenly, she was in a windowless room, she didn't want to leave. She wanted to yell at him, pick a fight right there, in front of everyone, like the old times. She wanted to go back to that, hating him, not knowing him, not caring to. Then he looked away, stepped back into the crowd, melted away in the shimmery noon light.

Did District 13 care, when they nuked a hole in the heart of Panem? Madge knew the answer, had known in the depths of her heart since she walked out of that windowless room on her first night of Procreation. District 13 didn't give a damn about them. District 13 cared only for itself. District 13, the New Capitol, was just another tyrant.

* * *

Gale waited for Katniss at their usual meeting spot. It was time to pick the strawberries. He didn't look forward to the steep hike down into the valley, where the best patches of wild berries grew. _Only the best for the Mayor and his daughter._ Did Madge even like strawberries? She never taste tested them at the back door. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing her eat one, but that didn't mean anything. There were, undoubtedly, a lot of things she did, that he didn't know about. It didn't matter if she ate the strawberries or not, as long as she paid. Still, his heart raced at the thought of her lips touching something that he had also touched.

"Happy Independence Day," said Katniss, slinking up behind him. There was bitterness in her tone, a sarcasm that scratched at his ears. Gale stood.

"We should get a move on," he said. They had a long and toilsome walk ahead of them.

* * *

Madge loved the Mellark's bakery, the smell of yeast and sugar, the windows, always open. She stood at the island counter, directly under the ceiling fan, that stirred the sluggish heat from the ovens. She was up to her elbows in flour, rolling out a ten pound ball of dough. It wasn't an easy task. Her arms cramped, but she kept pushing.

"Want to take a break?" said Peeta.

"Your mom will be home soon," she said, throwing the full weight of her upper half into the dough. Mrs. Mellark didn't take kindly to outsiders in her kitchen. She barely tolerated her own husband and sons, out of necessity. If she caught Madge here, Peeta would be in for a beating. Mr. Mellark or Rye always warned them when she was coming, but Madge didn't want to waste her time here. She hadn't come to talk. She needed to work, to use her hands, to flatten something.

Peeta stood across the counter from her. The dough was too flat now to do anything with. After she left, he'd have to ball it back up, roll it out again, and hope his mother didn't notice, though she probably would. She tasted every mistake. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"About what?" said Madge.

"Yesterday," said Peeta. She hadn't told him the outcome of her test results. She hadn't spoken about it with anyone, not even her parents, the only people outside of the Capitol who knew. If she talked about it, then it would become too real, and she wasn't ready for reality yet.

* * *

Bad haul this year. There were barely enough strawberries to fill half a pail. Some other desperate animal had gotten to them first.

"Guess we'll have to try somewhere else," said Gale, trudging side by side with Katniss through the underbrush. He was winded from the hike out of the valley, but he needed to talk. The woods weren't distraction enough. Sunlight falling through the treetops reminded him of Madge's hair, a sparrow tilted its head the way she did, the gentle breeze was the touch of her hand at the back of his neck.

"I was thinking about bringing Madge," said Katniss. Gale stopped walking. So much for distraction. It never worked.

"Oh," he said, coming up blank for a response.

"You'll probably be too tired to come out next Sunday, anyway," said Katniss. She looked at him straight, unflinching. For almost a month, she'd let him mope, and divert, and shut-down. She'd gone along with him, pretending that he wasn't going to the mines in less than a week. But it was time to address the elephant in the woods. "I think it'd be a good idea to bring Rory with us, too, after you adjust to your new schedule," she said.

"Are you trying to replace me, Catnip?" said Gale, only half teasing.

"Don't be like that," she said, one hand on her hip, and the other clutching the strap of her bag. "I'm trying to be practical. Rory should learn." She paused, took a breath, and finally said the words she'd been avoiding. "I'll need a little help, when you're in the mines."

"I'm still going to hunt," he said. "It's not like I'm going anywhere far away."

"Far enough," said Katniss. Gale didn't need to be told what she was thinking about right then. Their fathers had died in those mines and nothing separated as completely as death.

"Alright, I'll talk to Rory," he said. It was time the boy started pulling some of his own weight, anyways, and, loathe as he was to admit it, Katniss had a point. If anything did happen to him in the mines, then Rory would need to know how to provide for the family. Oddly enough, Gale hadn't given much thought to the mines. For as long as he could remember, he'd dreaded this moment, but now, he felt a bittersweet relief. There'd be no more accidentally bumping into Madge at school, no more watching her from afar, without her knowing. Completely out of sight, completely out of mind, or so he hoped.

For now, though, she kept racing across his thoughts as he and Katniss continued on through the woods. The cornflowers were the same color as her eyes. The bird chatter above reminding of her nervous babbling. The question he'd silently asked himself a million times over flew from his mouth before he could catch it, "How's Undersee doing?"

Katniss cast him a curious, sideways glance. He'd never asked her about Madge before. Since Procreation Week, he didn't talk about her at all, not even to rant. "I guess she's as good as can be expected. Her test was yesterday."

Gale's heart leapt to his throat, choking him. "And?" he said, trying to sound casual, as if he didn't care one way or the other about the results. His part was finished with. He wasn't supposed to care what happened next, but their last night together plagued him. _I don't want to have a baby,_ she'd said. That trembling confession still hung over him, a heavy shadow.

"I don't know," said Katniss. "She hasn't told me anything yet."

"But you've talked since?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't ask?"

"No," said Katniss. "I'm not going to, either. She'll tell me when she wants to."

It took every ounce of Gale's control to keep walking, to hold up a face of indifference, when on the inside, he was crushed under the weight of knowing. If the results had come back negative, then Madge wouldn't have wasted a single second to share the good news with Katniss. Her silence could only have one meaning, a horrible and nightmarish meaning.

Katniss stopped walking again. Apparently, his expression wasn't as indifferent as he strived for. She knew as well as him what Madge's silence meant. "There's nothing you can do," she said, stern, but not entirely without sympathy. "So don't go making any problems, for both of your sakes." Her eyes softened and she added, "It's not your fault, Gale, so don't go blaming yourself, either."

"Why would I do any of that?" he said. "She's not my problem anymore."

Katniss pursed her lips. She wasn't entirely satisfied. His response was too stiff and she knew him too well. Even though he hated Madge, that wouldn't stop him from trying to save her. He couldn't help himself. The very core of his nature was to come to the rescue to anyone who needed it, regardless of who they were. It was a trait she respected, and one that often left her exasperated as well. She let it go for now, but she meant to keep a close eye on him in the months to come.

* * *

"Are you going to tell me or not?" said Peeta, refusing to let the subject drop.

"Or not," muttered Madge, pushing on the flattened dough even harder. Peeta reached across the counter and put his hands over hers, to still them.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" he said. Really, he'd known the moment she walked into the bakery, had seen it written all over her face, which he knew better than his own. When she looked at him now, he caught the same traces of dread and misery that he'd picked up on earlier, only now they were overshadowed by fury, instead of forced determination.

"Why'd you have to say it?" she said, snatching her hands away from him. Those two words, _you're pregnant,_ having come from his mouth, rather than from behind the mask of a Capitol medic, a stranger, became real. They dropped into her stomach like two stones. "If you already knew, why couldn't you just keep your big mouth shut?"

"Madge, I-"

"No," she snapped, taking a step back, holding out the rolling pin like a knife to keep him from coming any closer. "No, don't say anything else."

"But-"

"No!" She flung the rolling pin at his head and, not waiting to see if she hit her mark, because it didn't matter, she fled.

But it was too late. There was no outrunning the truth. No matter how far she went, she'd still be carrying those awful two words, those two words that had taken root, and were now growing, deep in her womb.

* * *

 **AN:** Surprise! District 13 are the bad guys, which really isn't much of a surprise. I hope this explanation of how my twisted, little version of Panem came to be makes enough sense. The whole forced breeding thing just felt like more of something 13 would do and, quite frankly, I LOVE President Coin as the villain. And Peeta...poor Peeta, just can't seem to do anything right. There will probably be a scene between him and Katniss next chapter. I've got some side plans for everyone's favorite star-crossed lovers of District 12 ;)

As always, thank you for reading. I was blown away by your responses to the first chapter 3 3


	3. You, and Me, and Us

**"When we think of the past, it's the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that."**

Madge didn't tell Katniss about the pregnancy. There was no need. They had a friendship built on silent understanding. Despite their surface differences, at heart, they were more alike than anyone guessed. Now, more than ever, Madge was grateful for the seam girl's company.

As they ate lunch together, she felt almost normal, listening to Katniss' story of Prim's failed attempt to give Buttercup a bath that morning. A few times, she even smiled, but never managed a laugh, though Katniss' impression of Buttercup was hands down hilarious. She was mid-yowl, when Peeta approached their table. Immediately, Madge's expression turned grim again, her eyes hardening into two blue stones.

"Hey Katniss," he said. She jerked her head in reply. Then he turned to Madge. "Can we talk?"

Madge said nothing, wouldn't even look at him. Three days had passed since their argument and they hadn't spoke since. Not that Peeta hadn't tried. He came by her house at least three times a day, only to be turned away by the maid. Madge reserved her lunch periods for Katniss. He wasn't supposed to bother them. Until today, he'd respected the girls' time together, never intruding. He felt uncomfortable here, at their table, under Katniss' steely inspection, waiting, hoping, holding his breath.

"Just for a minute," he said. Madge continued to stare at her uneaten lunch, ignoring him completely. If it weren't for the way her cheek muscle twitched whenever he spoke, he might've thought that she really couldn't see or hear him. No one gave the cold shoulder quite as efficiently as the mayor's daughter. "Please," he added, desperate to set things right. He couldn't bear the distance between them, especially not at a time like this.

Katniss rose from the wooden bench, intent on giving them some privacy, but Madge stopped her before she could take a single step. "Stay," she said, looking at Katniss. Then she finally turned her stony eyes on Peeta. "You, go away."

"Madge, I-"

She held up a hand to silence him. "Go," she said, cold as the dead of winter. Peeta withered under her glare. Head hung low in defeat, he retreated from the table. Katniss watched him shuffle across the yard, his shoulders sagging, every step heavy with misery, and something unfamiliar stirred in her. It took a moment for her to figure out what the emotion was. Sympathy. No, pity. She hadn't thought it possible to feel sorry for breadboy, but he looked so broken, so tragically inept.

"Maybe you should forgive him," said Katniss, sitting back down. Madge looked at her as if she'd suggested stabbing herself in the neck. "He means well."

"He's an idiot," muttered Madge.

"Yeah, well, he's a boy," said Katniss, as if that explained everything. "You're going to need him, though."

Madge winced. That was the closest Katniss had come to mentioning the pregnancy out loud. She knew the seam girl was right, and, to be honest, she wasn't angry with Peeta, not anymore. She was just afraid he'd want to talk about _it_ again, and that was a conversation she couldn't stomach. Her belly, and her head, were full enough already.

"It's your choice," said Katniss. "But, obviously, he's sorry for what happened. Now isn't the best time to push people away."

The bell rang before Madge mustered a response. "We'll be late for class," she said, hurriedly packing up her lunch, hands trembling. She joined the other students, flooding back into the school building, but Katniss lingered at their table a while longer. _It's none of your business what goes on between them,_ she told herself. Madge's relationship with Peeta, like her own with Gale, was off-limits.

Yet, for Madge, and maybe even a little for breadboy, Katniss knew she had to do something. Their lives were painful enough, without making things harder on each other.

* * *

Peeta moved through the rest of the school day in a melancholy fog. He could throw a fifty pound bag of flour, one handed, over twenty feet, yet he felt weak. What was the use of physical strength, when he couldn't seem to do a damn thing to protect his best friend from the Capitol? He couldn't do anything to comfort her, either, without making a mess of it. Maybe his mother had been right about him all these years. He was useless, utterly useless.

Lost in a spiral of self-degradation, he didn't see Katniss Everdeen until he slammed into her. "Watch it, breadboy," she snapped.

"Sorry," he muttered, stepping around her. Katniss moved with him. She'd been waiting at the edge of the yard since the final bell rang.

"Hold up a second," she said. Peeta went still. His eyes were unfocused, drifting past her. He looked like he hadn't slept, or bothered to comb his hair, in days. Again, that odd feeling of pity rose up in her. It was difficult to hate him when he looked so pathetic.

"Let me give you some advice," said Katniss. She snapped her fingers close to his face to draw his attention. "If you want Madge to forgive you, you've got to promise not to talk about the…" She couldn't bring herself to say _pregnancy_. A cursed word. "...you know."

Peeta's eyes cleared, just enough to let her know that he'd heard, and comprehended. She rushed on, eager to be done with this conversation. Hopefully, breadboy would get his act together and there'd be no need for them to talk again. "She needs you, now more than ever, so don't push her. Just be there. You got that?"

"Yeah," said Peeta, slightly dazed still. Advice on friendship from Katniss Everdeen was the last thing he'd ever expected to happen. She only had two friends in the entire district, after all, but it was for that very reason that he trusted her counsel. She wasn't popular, or even very likable, but she was genuine, and zealously loyal. That she was here now, when he could clearly see she'd rather be anywhere else in the world, was proof of that. For Madge, for her friend, she was willing to do the thing she hated most, talk to him.

* * *

District 13 had destroyed most of the records detailing life in Panem before the Dark Days, but they'd kept a few carefully selected documents of the Old Capitol, to exhibit the greed and opulence of the country's corrupt once-rulers. These pictures and videos were meant to instill disgust for the old and appreciation for the new. _Look at the wastefulness,_ her teachers would say, _all of those skyscrapers built on the backs of the common people , to crush them._ But when Madge looked at the pictures, she couldn't help thinking how beautiful it all was. The pleasure gardens were her favorite: sprawling green lawns, labyrinths of rainbow colored rosebushes, golden paved pathways, and crystal fountains.

Town had its own garden. At least, that's what everyone called it, but the square patch of rough grass, dotted by a few scraggly trees, didn't come close to the breathtaking beauty of the Old Capitol. She used to stare for hours at those old pictures in her textbooks, pretending she was there, imagining the smell, the soft green, the lullaby of the fountains. Now, as she crossed the square, the dead summer grass crunching under her shoes, she found it hard to believe such beauty had ever really existed in this world. Perhaps it was all just another lie fabricated by the New Capitol.

Peeta was sitting on their favorite bench, near the shallow pond, which had dried up in the summer drought, leaving the red clay bottom exposed to crack under the harsh sunlight. As soon as he spotted her, coming his way, he leapt to his feet. They stared at each other for a minute, before blurting out in unison, "I'm sorry."

And that was that. They sat together, in their favorite place, without speaking another word as the red sun sunk below the horizon. Madge reached out and took his hand. She felt like crying, but couldn't, her body as cracked and dry as the sad, little pond.

Katniss' words from lunch mingled with the words from Gale's letter. _Now isn't the best time to push people away. Funny that there's an us._ The next nine months stretched before her. For the first time, she didn't shy away from them. Instead, she stared them down. _Funny how you can know someone for most of your life and not know them at all. You're going to need him._ Katniss had been talking about Peeta, but his face wasn't the one that surfaced to the forefront of her mind. His hand wasn't the one she wanted to be holding now. _You're going to need him…_

She had Peeta, and she had Katniss, but it wasn't enough. Though they were trying, neither of them could ever fully understand what she was going through. There was one person who could do that, only he was avoiding her. Madge was terrified, confused. Even more, she was desperate, desperate enough to seek out Gale Hawthorne, on the small chance that he'd hold her the way he had on their last night together, when they'd been, for a brief moment, not a _you_ and _me_ , but an _us._

* * *

 **AN:** Short chapter and no Gale, sorry. But get ready, because the Gadge confrontation you've probably all been waiting for is coming up in the next update!


	4. Collision

**"I feel like the word shatter."**

The last day of school flew by. Though she'd spent the whole of it looking for Gale, in the hallways, glancing into every classroom she walked past, by the final bell, Madge hadn't caught so much as a passing glance of him, which left her with the one alternative she'd been hoping to avoid. She scanned the schoolyard one last time, her eyes picking through the clumps of dark-headed students, rowdy and laughing, eager for summer. This year, Madge didn't share their excitement.

"I need you to take me to Gale," she said, giving up the search. Katniss came to a halt, thrown by the sudden declaration.

"What?" she said, certain she'd misheard.

"I want you to take me to his house," said Madge. Her voice was firm, but her eyes gave away her apprehension. Katniss' lips twisted into a pained grimace.

"That's not a good idea," she said. Gale would be furious with her for leading the mayor's daughter to his doorstep, but that wasn't her main concern. Him, she could deal with. It was the Capitol's reaction she feared most. They had strict rules against breeder couples interacting post-Procreation, especially if a pregnancy resulted.

Madge knew the risks. She didn't care. Not only was she desperate for the kind of understanding she believed only Gale could give her, but she didn't think it fair for him to be able to go on with his life, unburdened. If she had to suffer, then he ought to suffer with her. It wasn't that she blamed him for what was happening to her body. She just didn't want to go it alone. The Capitol's insistence that his role in this nightmare was over was something that Madge couldn't accept, not with a part of him growing inside of her.

"I have to talk to him," she said, half a demand, and half a plea. "I have to tell him. He should know."

 _He already does,_ thought Katniss, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Madge that. Not when she was so obviously grasping at support. "I could tell him for you," said Katniss. Madge shook her head. No, she needed to be the one to do it. She needed to see his reaction for herself, to see if he truly believed in the _us_ he'd spoken of in his letter.

Katniss let out a sigh, but refused to break. "I can't do it," she said. "I'm sorry. Look, whatever you want to tell him, I'll pass it along, but-"

"No," said Madge, crossing her arms. "If you won't take me to him, I'll find someone who will." Her eyes swept the yard again, finding, not Gale, but the next best thing. Ignoring Katniss' protests, she gathered every ounce of courage she had, and marched in a straight, determined line after Thom.

Katniss moved to follow, to stop her, but gave up after a few steps, realizing that it was a lost cause. Once she set her mind to something, Madge Undersee became a relentless force of nature, a storm that tore down everything in her path, friends included, regardless the consequences. And there would be consequences. Of that, Katniss was certain.

* * *

Madge had never spoken a single word to Thom before today. She expected him to be more resistant, like Katniss, to refuse. "Sure, I'll show you where Gale lives," he said, before she even finished her question.

His quick acquiescence made her second guess this course of action. He seemed a little too eager to take her to Gale. As he led her into the seam, there was an unconcealed buoyancy to his step, a wide grin slapped across his face. Madge didn't trust it. What was he playing at? Why, without asking a single question, had he agreed to show her where Gale lived? She didn't know him well enough to hazard a guess.

Whatever Thom's reasons, it was too late to back out now. He rambled the whole way. Madge was too nervous to comprehend most of what he was saying, but all the same, she was grateful for his steady stream of chatter, which spared her from having to speak. She was grateful, too, that he didn't walk around eggshells with her, the way most of the seam kids did. Then again, he hung around with Delly often, so he wasn't uncomfortable, talking with a townie. Clearly, he didn't share Gale's prejudices, at least not to the same extreme.

"You alright there, Undersee?" said Thom.

She honed in at the sound of her name. _No,_ she thought. _I'm not okay. I'm crazy. This is crazy. What the hell am I doing?_ "Fine," she said. "I'm fine."

"Really? Because you look like you're going to barf."

True, she felt that was a definite possibility.

"First time in the seam?" asked Thom.

"No." She'd been to Katniss' house a few times and, to get to the meadow, she'd crossed the seam hundreds of times. She'd never been in this part, though. It didn't look any different. The run-down houses, and the rutted roads, and the coal-dusted children chasing after each other were all the same. Only the circumstances had changed.

"Ah, I get it," said Thom. "Gale's a surly bastard, no denying that, but you don't need to be afraid of him."

"I'm not," she lied. Thom laughed.

"Yeah, you are," he said. "I don't blame you, either. He sure has given you hell, but that's only because…" He stopped, speaking and walking.

"Because what?" said Madge, curious. Katniss hardly ever talked to her about Gale. Thom, however, was hardly tight-lipped. He had a reputation for being something of a blabber mouth. It got him into a lot of fights at school. For once, though, he managed to reign himself in.

"You should ask him," he said. Then he pointed to a little house at the end of the dirt road they were on. "We're here."

Madge stared at the house, not moving any closer. So this was where Gale lived, where he slept, and ate, and hid from her. She felt that just looking at the house was an invasion of his privacy. Katniss had been right. This was a terrible idea. It was dangerous. More than that, it was stupid, pathetic. What did she really expect to happen? That Gale would open his door, and his arms, to her? Ridiculous. If he'd wanted to talk to her, well, he knew where to find her.

"Go on," said Thom, giving her a gentle nudge forward. "He won't bite. I don't think."

For a moment, she took in this boy she'd never spoken to, and hardly thought about, until today, this boy who'd helped her with no questions asked. There was something reassuring in the contradiction between his juvenile grin and the hard, stubbled planes of his face. She almost asked him to come with her, but he'd brought her far enough. Besides, whichever way this conversation with Gale went, she didn't want Thom spreading it around the district.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem," said Thom, and she believed that he meant it. "Good luck, Undersee, and remember, Gale's really a big softie under all that scowling."

That part, Madge didn't quite believe. Still, she was here. _Might as well go ahead with it,_ she thought, taking the first step in the right, or possibly the wrong, direction. Only one way to find out which.

* * *

That morning, Gale made it halfway to school, before turning around. What point was there, going on his last day? He would have stopped going years ago, were it not for the Capitol, and for Madge. Before his father died, before he started selling strawberries at her backdoor, school had been the only place where their separate worlds met. From the first time he laid eyes on her, stuck in the mud, bawling over her ruined shoes, he'd sought her out every day after, to pull her ponytail, call her names, trip her, tease her, touch her however he could, be near her. So what was the point, going on his last day, when he couldn't do any of those things? He couldn't even bear to observe her from afar anymore, not knowing that she was...that she was…

Instead, he prowled the seam, hunting for his next distraction, even though there was really no point to that, either. _I hate milk_ , Madge had told him, in that windowless room, _And I prefer going barefoot to wearing shoes._ He took off his own shoes, let the sun-baked earth blister the soles of his feet, a self-imposed punishment. He deserved so much worse, for all the times he'd hurt her, for abandoning her now. All he wanted was to run to her, hold her again, promise to do and be whatever she needed him to do or be.

But he was a coward. The Capitol didn't scare him, neither did the mines, not anymore. It was Madge Undersee who filled him with fright, the way she'd looked at him on Independence Day, as if she were drowning, and only he could save her. Except he couldn't. It was too late. She was...she was…

"Why aren't you wearing your shoes, dumbass?"

Gale looked up from his feet at the young woman sitting on her front stoop, shelling peas into a tin bucket. Blonde hair frizzed around her olive face. More yellow than white, like Madge's hair, but close enough, as close as he'd get in the seam.

"I prefer going barefoot," he said, flashing the woman his best grin.

* * *

Madge strode up to the Hawthorne's door and knocked without hesitation. If she paused even a moment, then she'd give up, go home, and spend the rest of her life wondering who Gale Hawthorne really was. She held her breath, waiting, ears perked for the sound of footsteps. She didn't hear any, but it wasn't long before the door swung open with a rusty creak. A gangly, dark-haired boy stood before her. One of Gale's brothers. Vick? No, that was the younger one, and this boy must be at least fifteen.

"Yeah?" the boy said, just as she remembered his name, Rory. He looked so much like Gale. It was more than their shared features. They stood the same way, somehow guarded and loose at the same time, inconsistent within themselves.

"You gone mute or something?" said Rory, an edge of impatience to his tone.

"No, I...I'm…" Madge took a deep breath to steady herself, and then tried again. "Is Gale home?"

Rory rolled his eyes. "He's out."

"Do you know where?"

"Probably the slag heap," he said, shrugging. Madge's gut gave a sharp twist. "Guess you can wait here," Rory went on, oblivious to the shell-shocked look splashed across her face. "But it might be awhile."

Madge had already backed off of the stoop before he finished speaking. She stared at the boy a moment longer, his words clanging between her ears. "No," she said. I'll just...I'll just go." _I never should have come,_ she thought.

"Want me to tell him you dropped by?" said Rory.

"No," she said again, shaking her head. "No, please don't." Then she turned her back on the boy and ran, kicking up a cloud of coal dust under her heels.

* * *

Gale and the woman with yellow hair didn't go to the slag heap. They fucked on her kitchen floor. She seemed content to do most of the work, he was content to let her, and to ignore the cheap silver wedding band on her ring finger. He'd never messed around with a married a woman before. He used to have morals. Apparently not anymore.

When it was all over, she kissed his cheek, and said, "Come by and see me again."

"Sure," he said, knowing that he wouldn't. He tied his shoes together by their laces, slung them across his shoulders, and, still barefoot, set off for home. All week, his mother had been scraping together enough food to whip up a poor man's feast for tonight, to celebrate his last day of school. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the dinner, but, for his mother's sake, he was determined to act happy. As he walked, he practiced smiling, trying to get it just right. He wanted to avoid his mother's questions and concern tonight, but fooling her wasn't easy.

Gale rounded a bend in the dirt road and stopped dead in his tracks, his practice smile blown away at finding himself face to face with the mayor's daughter. He blinked a few times, wondering if he'd lost his mind, certain that she was a heat mirage, only she didn't shimmer around the edges. She was solid, frozen in place. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, just to make sure.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Less than three feet separated them, but they might as well have been standing on opposite shores of uncrossable ocean. Gale wasn't sure what to do. Pass around her? Pretend he didn't see her? _Too late for that._ They were staring right at each other. Before he made up his mind, she spoke, each word a chip of ice, "Your buttons are crooked."

Gale glanced down at his shirt. Sure enough, the bottom two buttons were undone. His face burned red under his tousled hair. The way she was looking at him, like she knew where he'd just been, what he'd been doing, made him feel like a guilty child, caught fibbing, though he hadn't said a word. He didn't bother to fix his buttons. After all, it shouldn't matter if she knew where he'd been, what he'd been doing. _We're not together,_ he reminded himself. It's not like he owed her his fidelity. That didn't stop him from feeling he'd betrayed her.

After another minute, he worked up the courage the speak. "What are you doing here?" She wasn't supposed to be here, in his world. Madge curled her arms around her stomach.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted. It was the first time she'd said those words herself and the first time Gale heard them aloud. Until now, he'd been able to cling to the slightest thread of denial. The thread snapped. He looked to her hands, pressed against her flat stomach, and the ground tilted under his barefeet.

"I just thought you might want to know," she added.

Gale met her eyes, those heartbreakingly blue eyes, and felt he was falling in the wrong direction, upwards, into the sky. He wanted to grab hold of her, use her as an anchor, or at least take her falling with him. But he remembered Katniss' warning, and the mayor's cool threats. _Stay away from her. Stay away._

"I don't care," he forced himself to say, the words like shards of glass, cutting him open, raw and bloody, on the inside.

Then, not wanting to see her reaction, afraid if he did, there'd be no stopping himself from taking back the words before they embedded themselves too deeply, he darted around her, left her standing in the middle of the road, and didn't dare look back. If he had, then he'd have seen Madge fall to her knees, and he'd have gone back to her, like on their last night together. Only this time, he would not have let her go.

* * *

 **Estrunk:** Yes, there will probably be a pinch of Everlark :)

 **SJJ:** Thanks for your reviews. Go figure, you were right. Not a peaceful confrontation at all...but we're getting there.

 **Hawtsee:** I'm so sorry to do this to you! Hang in there. Give it a few more chapters, and I'll try to give you what you need, I promise.


	5. Let Go, Let Live

**AN:** Well, you've been waiting forever for a new update and here it is. Sorry I haven't given you anything happier yet, but by now you really should know not to expect that sort of thing, haha.

* * *

"I want everything back, the way it was. But there is no point to it, this wanting."

 _I don't care that he doesn't care,_ thought Madge, as she viciously stoked the flames of her bedroom hearth. _I don't care, I don't care._ She meant to burn his letter. First she would tear it apart and then feed it to the flames, shred by shred, as she should've done the day he gave it to her. She never should have read the damn thing to begin with. _I don't care, I don't care, I really don't care._ The fire spit embers from the grate. She stomped them out before they caught on the carpet. If only it was so easy to stamp out the anger and hurt burning in her breast. She fished the letter from the front of her blouse, clutched it in her trembling fist a moment, and glared into the flames. _I don't care, I don't care, I…_

The tears started up again and there was no stopping them. She thought she might cry until she shrivelled up, turned to dust. No matter how many times she told herself otherwise, she cared more than she could endure. She held Gale's letter over the fire, but couldn't make herself let go. Besides, what good would burning it do, when every word was memorized? _No matter what I try,_ he'd written, _we keep coming back to the same place._

Slowly, as she stood there, the gutting pain of his rejection became an ache, still agonizing, but not all-consuming. She was able to think more clearly about all of the things that didn't make sense. If he didn't care about her, then why had he written the letter? Why had he offered to sacrifice himself, rather than keep hurting her? Their last night together in the Justice Building, why had he brought flowers?

Madge closed her eyes and focused hard on picturing his face exactly as it had looked when she told him about the pregnancy. She studied him in hindsight and saw what she'd been to anxious to see before. Fear in his eyes. But fear of what? He was free, whether she was pregnant or not. She looked harder, desperately searching, so tired of all these questions and inconsistencies, and then...there it was. Fear in his eyes, not for himself, but for her.

Madge pulled the letter away from the fire and clutched it to her chest. Gale Hawthorne was a liar. He cared, she knew that he did, felt the truth of it without any proof, unless she counted the letter. She read the very last line, _I trust you to make this choice for us._ He cared about her, about what happened to her, and he'd made a decision for the both of them to chase her away, maybe for her protection, but she didn't believe it was for his own. Whatever his reasons, she didn't care. Evening was turning to dusk. She didn't care as she bolted down the empty hall, down the stairs, out the backdoor, along the garden path, into the street, running fast and hard back to the Seam.

 _He cares,_ she thought, becoming more certain with every footfall. He was stupid, thought she needed protecting, but he was wrong and she meant to tell him. His misguided protection was the last thing she needed, or wanted. With or without him, she would suffer, and bleed, and be at risk, and she would much rather it be with him than without him.

* * *

From the stoop steps, Gale watched black thunderclouds swarm across the summer sky. He hadn't slept more than a couple of hours in the past week. He was so tired, his body heavy as rock, but he knew if he tried to sleep now, he'd only dream of the glimpse of Madge's face he'd caught before he turned his back on her that afternoon. _I don't care._ His own words rang in his ears. He hadn't felt so wretched since the months after his father died, only this, this feeling of absolute shame and self-hatred, was almost worst. At least with his father, he only blamed the Capitol, not himself.

Maybe he could've done things differently. Maybe he could've found a way to help her, if he'd only tried harder. But no, there was no other way. Being pregnant put Madge at enough risk. He didn't need to add to her danger by breaking the Capitol's rules. He wished he could explain to her why he'd said what he had, wished he could write another letter, but even that was taking too great a chance. It was better if she hated him, if she stayed away, because he doubted he was strong enough to reject her for a second time.

Thunder clapped in the near distance. The storm would soon reach them. Gale waited. What else did he have to do? Inside, his mother was finishing the feast she'd put together to celebrate his last day of school. Posy's laughter wafted through the open window. It passed over him, caught on the wind, and blew away. He thought of Madge laughing, wondered if she'd ever laugh again, wondered if he'd ever get another chance to hear if she did.

Lost in thought, his gaze raised skywards, he didn't notice Thom approaching until it was too late to run and hide. He didn't want to talk to his friends, or his family, or anyone. He was too tired to move.

"You look like shit," said Thom. Gale grunted, kept his eyes on the stormclouds, still waiting, not entirely sure what for. An end to the torment? Rain to wash him clean? Even if it flooded, he doubted it'd be enough to cleanse him of his guilt.

"You should get some sleep before the bonfire tomorrow," said Thom. Again Gale said nothing. Somehow he'd forgotten about the start-of-summer bonfire, though it was all Thom and Bristel had talked of for weeks. Before Procreation, he'd been looking forward to it just as much as them. Now he couldn't remember why. There'd be too many smiling, happy people. Everyone in the Seam would be there. It was the only time of year they allowed themselves to have a good time.

Thom nudged his calf with the toe of his boot. "You alright?" he said. Gale nodded. Thom frowned. He'd never seen Gale this way before. Usually when he was upset, he raged, but now he was only lethargic. "I take it your chat with Undersee didn't go well," said Thom.

Gale finally stopped staring off into the distance and looked at his friend. "How did you know about that?"

"How do you think she found your house?" said Thom. "I brought her."

"Why?"

Thom shrugged. "She asked me to."

A spark of anger flared in Gale's stomach and quickly died out. He turned his eyes back to the stormclouds. "You shouldn't have done that," he muttered.

"It's not like I was going to say no to the mayor's daughter," said Thom. He sat beside Gale on the stoop. There was hardly enough room for the both of them. "Besides, it was about time you talked to her. What happened? Did you tell her how you feel? Did she-?"

"Nothing," said Gale. "Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen."

"But-"

"But nothing."

Thom fell silent. _Just go away,_ Gale thought at him. Either Thom didn't pick up on the message, or more likely chose to ignore it. After a minute, he said, "I know you've got this idea in your head that it'll never work between the two of you, because of who she is, and who you are, and where you're both from, but I think you're just scared. She came looking for you today. I've never seen her so determined. If you'd only-"

"She's pregnant," snapped Gale, knowing no other way to get his friend to shut up. He didn't look to see Thom's reaction. He didn't need to. Another long silence passed between them. The first cold drops of rain began to fall, stirring up the dry dust.

"Oh," said Thom at last. "That changes things."

"Yeah," said Gale, "it does."

In a month, everything had changed. He would kill to go back in time, to before Procreation week, before being locked up in that awful, white room with Madge Undersee, before touching her, opening himself up to her, letting her in after years of keeping her out at all costs. To go back to the days where he didn't imagine what a future with her could've been like, waking up beside her in the mornings, watching her sleep, golden hair fanned out on the pillow beside his, watching her wake up and smile at him, happy and peaceful and...A moment never to be, a nightmare that could have been the most wonderful dream.

Suddenly, he wasn't tired anymore, he needed to move, to run, escape. Gale leapt to his feet, ignored Thom calling after him, and gave himself over to the rain, falling faster and harder with each passing second, until he couldn't see an arm's length in front of him or behind. _Just let me drown,_ he thought, _please just let me drown._

* * *

Madge couldn't remember the way she'd come with Thom earlier that day. The rain distorted her surroundings. She could see outlines of houses, but couldn't tell them apart one from the other. Still, she didn't turn back. She didn't know which way was home anymore. She thought of screaming Gale's name, in the hopes he would find her, but a crash of thunder swallowed her voice when she tried.

Finally, she just stopped where she was, soaked through to the skin, shivering in a cold rain on a hot day. She felt she'd stood there for ages, when someone grabbed her arm. For a moment, she hoped that somehow Gale had heard her, after all, but when she turned, it wasn't him.

"Stupid girl," growled Haymitch Abernathy, tugging at her arm and giving her no choice but to stumble after him. He led her to a nearby house, shoved her across the threshold, and slammed the door shut behind him. The house only had one room. There was an unmade cot in the corner, an overturned crate that, judging by the empty bottles piled on top of it, he used as a table, and not much more. The air was stagnant, reeking of liquor and sweat. Shaking rainwater from his long, uncombed hair, Abernathy crossed the room to his cot and left a trail of footprints in the thick layer of coal dust over the floor.

Madge stayed by the door. A puddle gathered at her feet. Warily, she watched him wipe clean a small glass with the hem of his wet shirt. This was the last place she'd expected to end up. If her mother knew she was here, alone with Haymitch Abernathy, in his home…

"Drink?" he said, holding the glass out to her.

"I can't," she said, wrinkling her nose at the stinging smell of white liquor wafting clear and sharp across the room. Then, without thinking, without questioning why she was telling him, a man she'd never spoken to, she said, "I'm pregnant."

Haymitch shrugged. "All the more reason to take it," he said. But she didn't move any closer, so he downed the glass for her and then continued drinking straight from the bottle. For a long time, they were silent. Wind and rain lashed against the thin wallboards. Madge waited for the roof to collapse on them. It seemed a miracle the house remained standing against the storm. She expected to feel uncomfortable, alone with him. Oddly, though, she didn't. She felt they were old friends, that they'd been in this situation before. She felt connected to him now that they were in the same room together. In a way, she supposed they _were_ connected, and always had been, by a past she knew so little about.

"Do you know who I am?" she said.

Haymitch snorted and looked at her like she'd asked if he knew what color the sky was. She took that as a yes. Again, not thinking, she asked the next question that came to her, a question that had lurked at the back of her mind for years. "What happened with you and my aunt?"

If the question pained or surprised him, he didn't show it. He took a long drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then said, "I'm sure your dear, old mother's told you the story."

"She doesn't talk about you," said Madge. That wasn't entirely true. Mrs. Undersee had mentioned him a few times, in her morphling deliriums, but only ever to curse him. "I know you were breeding partners," she said. "That's about all."

Haymitch studied her for a moment. Madge didn't think he would answer. He didn't at first. Instead he said, "You look like Maysilee. When I saw you out there, I thought…" He shook his head, took another drink, cradled the bottle in his shaking hands. "You want to know what happened with me and your aunt? Well, you don't need me to tell you that story, girl. You're living it now."

Madge looked at him in confusion and he laughed. "You came out here looking for the Hawthorne boy, right?" he said.

"How did you know?" said Madge.

"Just because I don't talk to anyone, doesn't mean I don't hear and see things. I saw you earlier today."

Madge turned bright pink. If Haymitch Abernathy had seen them, who else had? A Peacekeeper? A Capitol spy? Someone who might report back to her parents?

"Let me give you a word of advice," said Haymitch. "Go home. Leave that boy alone. If you care about him, even a little, let him get on with his already miserable life."

And suddenly, standing just a few feet from him, Madge saw what she never had from a distance. _He loved her_ , she thought. That's why he glowered at everything and everyone around him, had shut himself off from the rest of the world, and was so bent on drinking himself to death. He had loved Maysilee Donner and he hadn't been able to save her.

"You'll only bring trouble down on the boy," he said. "He can't save you. No one can."

Madge felt sick. She held her stomach, waited for the nausea to pass, but it didn't. If anything, it only got worse. She stared at Haymitch, his sallow face, and wasted body, and imagined some future version of Gale. _Is this what he'd become if I die?_ The thought terrified her. She didn't want to think of Gale, so full of life and fire, turning into the shell of a person sitting before her.

Haymitch was right. Just an hour ago, she'd been furious with Gale for lying, for pushing her away, to protect her, but now she understood. He'd done it because he cared, that much she'd worked out. The part that dawned on her now was just how difficult it must've been for him, because she cared about him, too, though she didn't know in what way, and she knew what she had to do, though it went against everything she desperately wanted. She had to walk away, leave him alone, protect him from the Capitol, from herself, from the thing growing inside of her. She had to get through this hell on her own. It wasn't fair, not at all, but it was the right thing to do.

Her decision made, she felt...almost at peace. Confusion still lingered, but she knew one thing, without a shadow of doubt. She didn't want Gale to end up like Haymitch. She didn't really want him to suffer at all.

"You're wrong, Mr. Abernathy," she said, a newfound strength resonating in her voice. "I

can save myself."

She would have to. There was no other way. At least there was no other way without anyone else getting hurt.


	6. Alone Together

**"You can only be jealous of someone who has something you think you ought to have yourself."**

When Thom invited Delly to the start-of-summer bonfire, he casually suggested that she bring along a few of her town friends. Well, he thought he'd been casual. Bristel disagreed and disapproved. "You shouldn't meddle anymore," he said. "It's too dangerous. It's not worth it."

"I didn't even mention Undersee," said Thom. "Besides, we're going to the mines in a couple days and that's dangerous. At least he can get some happiness from Undersee."

Bristel scowled, but spoke no more on the subject as they approached Gale's house. Chances were Undersee wouldn't even come. He couldn't imagine why she would.

* * *

Peeta had extended Delly's invitation to the bonfire on to Madge without expecting her to accept. She'd been just as surprised as him when she agreed to go without any fuss. She told herself it didn't have anything to do with Gale. There would be over three hundred people at the bonfire. Chances were she wouldn't even see him. That didn't keep her from hoping, though she knew she shouldn't, and she tried to ignore how terribly she wanted to catch a glimpse of him. For as long as she remembered, she'd done her best to avoid him, and now that it was imperative to do so, she found the challenge insurmountable.

 _I won't talk to him,_ she thought, creeping quietly down the stairs, past the hall where her parents slept. _If I do see him, I'll only look for a second._ The whole point of going was to take her mind off of the pregnancy, to have a little fun while she still could. That was Peeta's reasoning, at least. He didn't know anything that had happened with her and Gale, because she didn't know how to explain to him, or to herself, how torn she was between the need to see him and the need to stay away.

"You look nice," said Peeta, when she met him at the end of the street.

"Too nice for a bonfire?" she said, frowning down at her blue summer dress with a thin belt made of white leather. Her hair was held back in the usual bun. She'd thought about wearing it down, remembering how Gale seemed to like her hair that way, before also remembering that she wasn't supposed to care what he did or didn't like.

"No, it's a nice dress. Not too fancy," said Peeta. "You'll fit in alright."

Madge doubted that. She didn't feel that she belonged anywhere, especially not the seam, but that didn't stop her from falling into step beside Peeta and hurrying there. _I'll just look for a second,_ she told herself again. _Just a glimpse, a little one, and then I'll look away for good._

* * *

Gale didn't want to be at the bonfire, but it took less energy to be here than to argue with his friends. He sipped at his drink, wishing he was home. All of his family was here. He'd have the house to himself. As soon as Bristel and Thom stopped watching him, making sure he didn't bolt, he planned to slip away. Hopefully his friends would forget about him soon. They meant well, but they didn't know, couldn't know, how deep his misery went, how much it pained him to be where he should've been happy, but couldn't be, because he kept seeing Undersee in the smoke, kept whipping his head around, thinking he'd heard her, only to find that it was someone else. It was always someone else. Of course she wasn't here. This wasn't her place…

He couldn't help wondering what she was doing now. Was she still upset over yesterday or had she moved on already? Gale doubted she'd wasted too many tears over him. She had bigger problems. He didn't mean anything to her. Not really. She hadn't been looking for _him_ yesterday. She'd been looking for someone to save her, for solidarity, for something he wasn't exactly sure of, but knew it couldn't have been _him_ specifically, just whatever it was he represented to her.

"That girl over there's been eyeing you all night," said Bristel, nudging Gale in the ribs to catch his attention. Gale looked to the girl, standing by the bonfire with a group of others he vaguely recognized from school, and she smiled at him when their eyes met. An inviting a smile. One that beckoned him over, to ask her to dance, maybe ask her for more.

 _Not interested,_ thought Gale. He opened his mouth to say it aloud, to get Bristel off his case, but then had second thoughts. Maybe he should dance with the girl, just dance, not take her to the Slag Heap or anything. Maybe he should make an effort to have a little fun. He wouldn't forget Undersee unless he put some effort into it. He couldn't have Undersee one way or the other. _Here are your choices,_ he thought, watching the girl turn to say something to her friends. _You can keep agonizing over what's done, stay stuck, or you can try to push on._

"She's alright," said Thom.

"Yeah," said Gale. Light brown hair, seam gray eyes, pretty dress she'd probably made herself and that didn't compare to anything Undersee wore. The girl was alright. Maybe she was smart, too. Maybe she was funny. Maybe she could understand him better than Undersee ever could, because they were from the same place, had grown up with the same problems. Maybe she was the right girl for him. Maybe he could love her if he tried to know her. Maybe…

Gale handed his drink to Bristel and made his way to the girl by the fire.

* * *

Madge, who'd rambled nervously all the way to the party, stopped talking as soon as they arrived. She sat between Peeta and Delly, off to the side, on a fallen and half-rotted tree trunk. Every now and then, someone cast the three townies a questioning look and muttered something to their companions, before passing on. No one noticed them for long and no one said anything directly to them about how they shouldn't be there.

Obviously, Delly didn't feel at all out of place. She chattered happily about school, her plans for the summer, on and on. Peeta tried to keep up. He sensed he was the only one of them who felt uncomfortable being here. Madge seemed too distracted to notice the occasional curious looks they were given. Her eyes swept across the crowd. She wore a determined look. Peeta almost asked what exactly she was searching for, but knew she wouldn't answer truthfully with Delly around, so he tried to follow her shifting gaze.

He gave up when he spotted Katniss, prowling the edge of the party. She caught him staring, glared at him for a moment with such venom he felt it keenly from across the smoky clearing, and then she spun around, heading away from the smoke and the music.

"I'll be right back," said Peeta, rising from the log before he had time to think through his sudden urge to follow Katniss. Madge didn't acknowledge that he'd spoken or moved. She'd be alright with Delly for a few minutes. He'd be back before she noticed he had even left. Whatever was on her mind didn't leave room for anything else.

Katniss noticed that she was being followed before Peeta worked up the courage to catch up to her. As soon as they were a fair distance from the party, with the bonfire little more than candle flame in the distance, she stopped and faced him.

"What are you doing here?" she said. She didn't sound surprised to see him, though Peeta himself was still surprised that he'd followed her.

"Thought I'd walk you home," he said. "Just to, uh, be safe."

Katniss laughed, but she didn't smile. If anyone needed protecting in the seam, it was breadboy, not her. Realizing that what he'd said was stupid, Peeta turned red. Despite the cover of night, he felt Katniss knew he was blushing somehow. Thankfully, she didn't tease him. That wasn't her way.

"I wasn't asking why you followed me," she said. "Why did you come to the bonfire? Why did you bring Madge?" Her voice dropped lower as she spoke. When she was angry, she didn't scream. She growled. "Seriously, what were you thinking? If she's caught out here-"

"I thought she could use a little fun," said Peeta, losing his own temper. He respected that Katniss cared for Madge, respected their friendship, and even appreciated the advice she'd given him just recently, but he'd known Madge for much longer. "She'll have to go to the Nursery soon enough," he said, forcing himself to hold Katniss' steely gaze, no matter how much he wanted to look away. "She should be able to enjoy herself a little before then."

"And you really thought she'd enjoy herself here?" said Katniss.

Peeta shrugged. "She's always talked about wanting to come to the bonfire," he said. At that, Katniss did look surprised.

"Oh," she said, her voice returning close to normal. "I didn't know. She's never mentioned it to me."

"I'm sure there's a lot she doesn't tell you," said Peeta. Katniss winced. For a second, he enjoyed his victory, until he realized how minor it was, how petty. He hadn't followed her to fight over which of them was closer to Madge. He wasn't jealous. In fact, he'd always thought it was a good thing for Madge to have another person to open up to.

"She likes your music," said Peeta. "We don't have much of it in town You know how the Capitol feel about it. Gratuitous or something like that."

Katniss nodded, understanding that he didn't want to fight. All the same, after a short and awkward silence, she said, "You still shouldn't have let her come." It wasn't exactly against the rules for Madge to be here, but if she was caught, if she showed herself to the Capitol as the type to sneak out in the middle of the night to go to seam parties, then they would tighten her leash, make it impossible for her to go anywhere or do anything without being monitored. There'd be enough of that when she was in the Nursery.

"I know," said Peeta. He drew a line in the muddy ground with the toe of his boot and then wiped it away with his heel. "I just wanted her to be happy for a bit."

"Did it work?" said Katniss.

"I don't think so."

"Well, I guess we'll have to think of something else."

Peeta looked up at her. _We?_ he thought. He couldn't tell if Katniss was smiling now or not. Maybe? Just a little bit.

"You're a good friend, Mellark," she said. "Go back to Madge. She'll need someone to walk her home, to be safe, ya know."

Before Katniss turned her back to him, Peeta caught a definite smile flicker across her lips.

* * *

Delly had run off with Thom. Peeta was...somewhere. Only when she found herself alone did Madge stop looking for Gale and begin to feel out of place, but of course, when she wasn't looking anymore, there he was. She took more than the glance she'd sworn to limit herself to. She followed every move he made, watched him spin some other girl, watched him pull some other girl close to whisper in her ear. She couldn't look away. She wanted to. She felt strange, sick and angry and something else she didn't have a name for. It didn't make sense to feel any of those things.

 _This is what you wanted,_ she told herself, watching Gale and the other girl dance. He was laughing at something she'd said and that strange, nameless emotion swelled in Madge's chest. _This was your choice._ She wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be. So then, why wasn't she happy for him? Why didn't she feel some sense of accomplishment for having done the right thing? Why did it only feel wrong to see him with someone else?

Madge finally tore her eyes away. She couldn't stay here a second longer, couldn't keep watching. _Will he take her to the slap heap? Will he touch her the way he touched me? Will he tell her that she has a pretty dress?_ Madge kept her head down, eyes on the ground, as she darted through the crowd. She knew she should wait for Peeta to return from wherever he was, but if she did, she'd keep watching, and keep feeling these nameless things she didn't want to feel, and asking herself questions she shouldn't care about, questions she didn't want the answers to. The fire was too hot. Smoke stung her eyes. She never wanted to see Gale Hawthorne again.

She hadn't gone far from the fallen tree trunk, when the cry went up. "Peacekeepers!" someone shouted. The music died immediately, the last chord trembling in the moment of stillness before pandemonium broke. Madge found herself caught in the midst of a sudden storm, a stampede of people, pushing her this way and that. Panicked faces, lit and menacing in the bonfire glow, all unrecognizable, flashed past her one after the other. Where the hell was Peeta? Or Delly? Even Thom would be a welcome sight. Madge realized just how alone she was and the fear slammed into her.

Then she saw the Peacekeepers and the fear exploded, the shrapnel of it slicing right through her. There were so many of them. But why? Surely not just because they were all breaking curfew. There were always bonfires in the seam. The Capitol didn't approve, but they tolerated them.

 _Move_ , a little voice hissed in Madge's head, _you can't be here, you can't be caught._ The ranks of Peacekeepers moved closer in an unbreakable line, unaffected by the chaos all around. _Move,_ the voice screamed, _MOVE NOW._

Madge spun around to run with the rest. Outside of the bonfire's light, all was pitch black. She couldn't see, didn't know who jostled by on either side of her, didn't know where she was going. The sound of heavy boots drummed at her back. She had to keep running, blind, lost, alone. As long as she kept ahead of them, then…

Someone hit her hard from behind and she lost her footing on the muddy, up-turned ground. She tried to stand, but a foot broke through the darkness, pushing her back down. All she could see were feet. She felt them, heavy and painful, on her legs, her back, forcing her deeper into the sucking mud. Madge shielded her head with her arms. It was the most she could move. She'd be trampled to death if she didn't get up.

Oddly enough, the fear left her as she lay in the mud. The awful, nameless feeling was gone, too. There was only a foggy sort of peace, an unexpected acceptance. She'd rather die here and now than have the last of her freedom taken from her. And what did it matter, really, that she still had three months before her confinement? Were three months of freedom worth anything, when she would spend them in dread?

Someone tugged at the back of her dress, trying to lift her out of the mud, and she raised her arm to push them away, turned her head to tell whoever it was to leave her be, let her go. She expected Peeta, or Delly, or a stranger. Instead, she found Gale kneeling in the mud, hunched over her to fend off the stampede. "Up," he shouted over the screaming and the boot stomping of the Peacekeepers. "Now, Undersee!"

Madge obeyed. She didn't think twice about it. Her thoughts from a few seconds ago vanished without a trace. Gale kept her arm in an iron grip. His skin burned against hers, as if he'd been holding his hands in the fire. No longer lost, no longer alone, she ran with renewed determination, and wondered how she could've ever considered giving up.

* * *

"In here," said Gale, shoving her into an old coal shed. He closed the door and collapsed against it, using his body as an extra barricade. Not that it would matter if the Peacekeepers found them. He prayed they wouldn't look. They'd already broken up the party. They didn't seem to be looking for anyone. When he'd first seen Madge, getting tossed around in the swarm, he panicked, thought they'd come for her, but realized now that didn't make any sense. The Capitol wouldn't send an infantry just to drag home one girl in her first trimester.

But why send an infantry at all? It wasn't typical for the Capitol to use excessive force without cause? The bonfire had been tame. Nothing threatening, nothing out of the ordinary. Gale couldn't think about it now. He couldn't think much about anything with Madge panting nearby. He couldn't see her, but felt how close she was. There wasn't really room for both of them in the coal shed. If he moved just the slightest bit, he was sure to touch her, so he was very careful not to move.

After a while, everything went quiet. No more screaming. No racing footsteps. Madge had caught her breath. She was grateful now for the total darkness that kept her from seeing Gale. After a while longer, she worked up the courage to whisper, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," snapped Gale. His anger whipped out at her, catching her off guard.. "Have you lost your damn mind, Undersee? What were you thinking, coming out here?"

"I thought you didn't care what happened to me," she snapped back at him. If he wanted to pretend, then fine, but she wouldn't tolerate being spoken to so harshly.

Gale took a deep breath. He groped for self-control. Everytime he caught it, though, he saw her being trampled into the mud and the fear he'd experience in that moment, greater than any fear he'd known before, was too much. It was easier to be angry with her. He opened his mouth to tell her how stupid she was, but he didn't want this to turn into a screaming match. The Peacekeepers might still be around. He stepped towards her, reached out through the darkness and grabbed her shoulders, intending to shake some sense into her instead.

Touching her was a mistake. As soon as he did, his anger dissolved. He could just barely see her face, but her expression was all shadow. She was breathing heavily again. She was alive, safe, here with him. They hadn't been alone like this since their last night in the Justice Building. If he tilted his head just a little, he could kiss her. God, he wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her.

"Shouldn't you go find your girlfriend?" said Madge. Gale didn't let go like she expected. If anything, his grip tightened.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he said.

"You're only sleeping with her, then," said Madge. She didn't mean for her words to come across so sharply. As soon as they left her mouth, she knew she shouldn't have spoken them at all. That nameless feeling welled up again. It had crept into her voice and, in the dark, more attune to the nuance of sound, Gale picked up on it with ease.

"You're jealous," he said, half in disbelief.

"Don't be absurd," said Madge. She tried to shake him off. He noticed, though, that she didn't try very hard. Nor did she protest hard enough. After years of fighting with her, he knew he'd hit a mark. He knew the difference between when she was lying and when she honestly believed what she said. Madge Undersee was jealous over him. Despite himself, despite everything, he smiled for the first time in weeks.

"I don't care what you do, or who you do it with," she said. "It's none of my business. Just like what I do is none of yours, so let me go and...and…"

Gale shifted even closer. His breath tickled her lips and she couldn't think anymore. She forgot how to speak. She forgot that she was supposed to want him to let go, when more than anything she wanted his arms around her. How could she do the right thing, how could she let _him_ go, when he was standing right in front of her and she was thinking of how it was to kiss him and hoping that he would go on and kiss her again already, before she really did loose her mind waiting.

"I care," said Gale, unable to stop himself. The words rumbled deep in his chest.

"I know," whispered Madge, no longer afraid of the Peacekeepers overhearing, only afraid of the truth, out in the open, the uncertainty of what might happen next.

"You're jealous," said Gale. His hand slid from her shoulder to the back of her neck. She couldn't lie with him touching her like that. The emotion she'd felt, watching him dance with another girl, wasn't nameless. She just hadn't wanted to admit that it was jealousy.

"Yes," she said. That was all Gale needed to hear to forget about right and wrong, the danger of being near her, the absolute stupidity of leaning in to kiss her. His lips brushed against hers, barely touching, and the world that had been so long upside down turned right side up again.

"Madge," said Peeta, his whispered shout frantic on just the other side of the door. Gale let his hands drop to his sides. Peeta's hurried and passing footsteps served as a bitter reminder that they weren't alone in the world. The Peacekeepers were still out there. The Capitol still saw and heard everything. When he backed away, Madge couldn't stop herself from clutching at him, trying to keep him. It was harder for him to uncurl her fingers from his shirt than it had been to walk away from her yesterday. He held her hands a moment longer, committing every detail of this moment to memory, so that he could return to it in the good dreams, even if they killed him upon waking.

"I'm sorry," he said, finally letting her go. He threw open the door and stepped aside so that she could squeeze past. "You should go after Mellark, before he gets too far."

 _I can't_ , thought Madge, frozen in place. _I don't want to. I want...I want..._ She didn't know anymore.

"Please go," said Gale, his voice strained, body tense. "Please."

She understood what he was trying to say. _Go before we make a mistake. Go before we move too far to turn back._ Before their story turned into Haymitch Abernathy and Maysilee Donner's. Madge darted past him. She ran after Peeta's shadowy figure, already receding in the smothering dark.

* * *

 **AN:** DAMNIT PEETA! So close, but you knew it wasn't going to be that easy...Endless thanks for the reviews. I wanted to give you a little something for all of your patience, haha. Oh yeah, and the random Peacekeeper raid is important, so don't forget it ya'll :)


	7. Shelter

**"At moments like this I envy those who have found a safe haven in which to bestow their hearts…"**

There were moments when Madge forgot she was pregnant. Like now, playing tic-tac-toe with Katniss. They sat in the shade of the weeping willow. As a child, the willow had been Madge's fortress. She hid behind the trailing limbs. Her father cut away a section of branches to make a door for her. It was grown over now and had been for a long time, but she remembered exactly where it'd been, and still entered from the same place. Lately, she spent most of her days in the fortress of her childhood. Long summer days with nothing to do, unless Katniss or Peeta visited, and they came as often as they could. Not often enough. Peeta's mother worked him hard in the bakery. Katniss hunted as much as she could while school was out.

Madge tried to keep busy. She was teaching herself to embroider. She wasn't very good. She read, but couldn't finish any book she picked up. They all bored her halfway through. She took long walks against her mother's wishes, though her father said it was good for her. She wasn't allowed to go farther than Merchant Street. That didn't stop her from wandering to the seam boundary. She never crossed over, but she spent hours, pacing the line, thinking about Gale, who she hadn't seen or spoken to since the bonfire, two weeks ago.

For the most part, though, she laid in the shade of the willow and relived her life up to this point. She remembered things she'd thought forgotten and worked hard to forget what she didn't want to remember. Sometimes, she went beyond her own life and created pretend histories for her parents, Aunt Maysilee, and Mr. Abernathy. Mostly fiction spun from threads of truth.

It was only with Katniss and Peeta that she truly forgot about the pregnancy, but even when they were around, Gale stayed on her mind. He'd almost kissed her that night. She touched her lips whenever she thought about it. She thinking about it now.

"Your turn," said Katniss. Madge pulled her hand away from her lips. She contemplated the square of X's and O's for a moment and realized that Katniss would win no matter what, so she chose a square at random and used her pinky to draw an X in the dirt. Katniss made her victory O. They didn't start a new match. Without discussing it, they both knew they were finished playing for the day. Katniss leaned back onto her elbows, whistled a little tune for the mockingjay in the bough above, and waited for the bird's echo. Their love of music was one of the first things she and Madge had bonded over. Katniss didn't sing for many people, not since her father died, but Madge could coax a song out of her every once in awhile. Today wasn't one of those days. It was too hot, too muggy. Lethargy hung in the air, like paint drying on the wall.

Madge wiped away the tic-tac-toe board to draw pictures in the dirt. Peeta had promised to give her painting lessons soon. She didn't have much hope of being any good. She made a rough sketch of Gale's face without realizing it. Thankfully, the resemblance was nonexistent. Still, just to be safe, she smudged it out before Katniss glanced over.

By now he would've started work at the mines. She wanted to ask Katniss how he was doing, if he ever mentioned her, but then Katniss would have questions of her own and there was too much that Madge didn't want to get into. She couldn't talk about boys with Katniss, especially not when the boy was her best friend. There was Peeta, sure, but he had his own relationship problems to deal with. He hadn't said anything aloud about his feelings for Katniss, but lately, whenever the two of them crossed paths coming and going from the mayor's house, he turned awkward, tripped over his words, when he was usually so eloquent. Katniss, of course, was oblivious.

Madge held her silence. Before Procreation, maybe she'd have nudged them towards each other. They were better suited for one another than either of them realized, having never exchanged more than a few sentences. Now, however, she was too fearful of losing them, If they worked out, they might have less time to spend with her, or she'd become the odd man out. If they didn't work, they might avoid her to avoid each other. It was selfish, but she didn't care. She needed them both too much.

"Anyone home?" said Peeta, poking his head through the willow branches. As soon as he saw Katniss, a scarlet flush rose from under his wilted collar. Katniss got to her feet and stretched. They never stayed together. When one arrived, the other left. Madge thought of it as the changing of the guards, like how the Peacekeepers took turns standing in front of the Justice Building.

"I'll try to come by tomorrow," said Katniss. "Gale and I have a hunting trip planned, but we should back a little after noon."

"That's fine," said Madge. Her heart leapt at Gale's name. She hoped it didn't show on the outside. "Peeta and I have our first painting lesson in the morning, anyways."

Katniss glanced at Peeta. The red crept higher up his neck and into his cheeks. "You paint?" she said, speaking directly to him for once.

"Some," said Peeta, sounding choked. He cleared his throat. "I'm not very good."

"Don't listen to him," said Madge. "He's great. I'll show you the ones he's given me."

Peeta looked horrified. Katniss just shrugged. "Alright," she said. "See you tomorrow."

As soon as the garden gate screeched open, and then banged shut, Peeta rounded on Madge. "Don't you dare show her my paintings," he said. Madge ignored him. She touched her lips again.

* * *

Every day, when Gale descended into the mines, he left himself above ground. He became something not quite human. Down in the depths of the earth, the existence of the sun was unfathomable. He feared it wouldn't be there when he surfaced, the infinite darkness would follow him one day, and he'd never see the light of day again. He thought he heard the ground moaning, threatening to collapse. The dull thud of axe against coal filled his head. No one spoke. They worked in dreary silence. Human voices, human beings, didn't belong in the narrow spaces underground.

Sometimes he felt the walls close in around him. He thought of his father, buried alive down here, and began to suffocate. He'd always know that his father died horribly, but now he knew it must've been worse than even his worst nightmares. In those times, when the air became thin, and he couldn't breathe, he had to think of Madge, close his eyes for a moment, let the memory of her golden hair light up the darkness. In the mines, the thought of her didn't torture. The thought of her was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind.

At the end of his first week, as he limped off of the lift with the others in his crew, and stepped outside to find the sun had already set, just the thought of her wasn't enough. He needed to see her, the next best thing to the sun. He needed proof of light. He didn't think. He was like an infant, unable to rationalize, acting out of necessity.

* * *

Every time Madge fell asleep, she was soon woken by the need to pee. She emptied her bladder for the hundredth time and then stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She raised her shirt, glared at her flat stomach, and poked it hard. "I hate you," she said to the beast in her belly, no bigger than her thumb, but already making its presence known. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," she said, poking the thing with every word, wanting to annoy it as much as it annoyed her. She knew the fetus couldn't hear or feel.

She let her shirt drop and shuffled back to her room. There was no point in trying to sleep. She was tired of drifting off, waking up, drifting off, waking up. It was more exhausting than just staying awake. She went to the window. A half moon peeked out from behind blackish-violet clouds. Tomorrow, when Peeta came over for her first painting lesson, she decided this is what she'd paint. After a few minutes, though, she grew bored of the moon. Her gaze wandered down to the garden. She hadn't expected to find anyone looking back at her, but there they were, a dark figure, standing perfectly still, staring straight at her window as if they could see her, though she didn't know how they could. No lights were on her room.

For a moment, she thought the figure was a ghost. Then they lifted their arm to rub the back of their neck. Madge recognized the gesture. Her pulse quickened. She found herself in the kitchen with no clear understanding of how she'd gotten there. It was like being in a dream, moving from one place to another in a disjointed flash. She threw open the backdoor and nearly screamed when she saw Gale. He was black from head to foot, a creature from nightmares.

"It's just me," he said quickly, having seen the panic flit across her face. The sound of his voice soothed her momentary fear. Yes, it was him, not a ghost, not a monster, just him. She realized he must've come straight from the mines. How long had he been standing out here? The longer she looked at him, the clearer it became that something was wrong. His hands shook. When he spoke again, there was something off in his voice.

"I know I shouldn't be here, but-"

Madge shook her head to silence him. She glanced back at the house, to make sure all of the windows were still dark, and then gestured for him to follow her to the shelter of the weeping willow. As soon as they were hidden from view, she turned to him, looked past the coal dust masking his face. A crease of worry formed between her brows. Everything she'd wanted to tell him over the past two weeks fled from her thoughts. "Are you okay?" she said. She didn't really need to ask. He obviously wasn't. He didn't answer and when she reached out to him, he stepped back.

Gale was determined not to touch her this time. He'd learned his lesson in the coal shed.

"Gale," she said, the worry crease deepening. He didn't feel worthy of her concern, but he craved it all the same.

"I can't go back," he said suddenly.

"Back where?" she said.

"The mines. I can't do it, Madge. You don't know how horrible it is. So dark, and so cold, and cramped. I can't breathe when I'm down there. I'd rather die than-"

Madge felt another quake of panic at the smallest mention of him dying. "Shut up," she said. "I don't want to hear that."

"It's true, though," said Gale. He slumped against the tree trunk. He slid down to the ground, unable to hold himself up anymore. His whole body ached more than he thought possible. "I keep thinking about my dad," he said. "And how awful it must have been for him. I thought I knew, but I didn't. The weight of all that dirt burying him alive. You can feel how heavy it is when you're down there." Just thinking about it, he struggled for air. He buried his coal black face in his coal black hands.

Madge didn't know what to say. She was in shock, hearing him talk about his father. What was there to say? She couldn't relate, had never been much good at providing solace, and it made her uncomfortable to see him this way. In her mind, even before Procreation, Gale Hawthorne was unshakable, a solid foundation, and here he was crumbling at her feet. She wanted to run away, leave him, but then she remembered how he'd held her on their last night in that awful, white room. He hadn't run. He'd probably wanted to.

Madge sat beside him. She didn't try to touch him again. "I can't imagine how bad it is," she said, starting out slow, grasping.

"I wouldn't want you to," said Gale, his voice muffled in his hands. A minute of silence passed and Madge still didn't know what to do.

"What do you need from me?" she said. Gale surfaced to look at her.

"Nothing," he said. "Just be here."

"Okay," said Madge. "I'm here."

* * *

Madge waited for Gale's hands to stop shaking, before she spoke again. "Why did you come here?" she said. "Why not go to Katniss?" It would've made more sense. Katniss was his friend. _And I'm his..._ Well, she didn't know what she was to him. Not the girl he was supposed to go running to when he was upset. Besides, Katniss could relate. She'd lost her father in the mines, too.

Reading the direction of her thoughts, Gale said, "We don't talk about that with each other." Not in words, at least. Katniss didn't want to be reminded and he didn't want to cause her pain by bringing up the past now. He could have gone to her, and she would've listened, done her best to bring him around, even if it hurt her, but it hadn't crossed his mind to seek her out instead of Madge. He tipped back his head against the tree trunk, stared up at the curved top branches of the willow, while he considered how much to tell her, how much not to.

"And I feel safe with you," he finally said.

Madge laughed. "Sorry," she said, immediately guilty. "But that's the silliest thing I've ever heard."

"It's true," said Gale.

"Yeah, because I'm _so_ strong."

"You are."

Blushing, Madge looked away. A loose curl blew across her cheek. His hand itched to tuck it behind her ear, so he trapped both hands between his legs. "You've always put up with all the shit I've given you over the years," he said. And she'd been incredibly brave throughout Procreation Week. He didn't mention that part, though.

Madge pushed her own hair behind her ear. The cicadas had stopped chirping, giving way to the birds, which meant sunrise was only a couple hours away. It was time for him to go. They both knew it. Unwillingly, Gale got to his feet. Madge followed his lead. They stood a minute longer, neither of them looking at each other.

"You probably shouldn't come back here," said Madge. "It's not that I don't want you to, but-"

"I know, Undersee."

Still, neither of them moved. Keeping a safe distance wasn't working out for either of them. _Maybe_ , thought Madge, _maybe if we clear the air, we can put this behind us._ They'd left too much unfinished that last day in the Justice Building. "We need to talk," she said. "About...about…"

"I know," he said again. "Not here." Not in the mayor's backyard, with her parents sleeping nearby, where anyone might overhear them. "I'll think of a place, alright?"

Madge braved meeting his eyes, steady again, how they were supposed to be, and she nodded. Gale moved around her, was about to duck out from under the willow, but paused, glanced back over his shoulder to soak in the sun just a little longer, before stepping into the dark. Being with her was dangerous. Being with her was the only place he felt safe anymore.

* * *

 **AN:** I really like this chapter. Hope you do, too :)


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